…as one ascends the escalator at Southwark station, the sky is presented as geometric patterns, blue glass on walls and roof of the intermediate concourse, a vaulted wonder, the dome…

… for the last time mascara is applied, small drops of tears carry black blobs of this stuff down cheeks staining the fucking sofa…

…Les Deux Plateaux, a non-monument, erupts as imagined planes across the Palais-Royal in Paris. Buren prefers the term “polygons” for these fluted columns due to their cross section, the trademark 8.7cm stripes offering the various sides to these shapes…

… IKB #002FA7…

…the subject is said to exceed itself in communication. This excess of the subject, whereby it overflows in communication, allows community as such to occur since it means we are not isolated as discrete identities…

…the architects Future Systems used International Klein Blue behind the aluminium disks on the outside of the Bullring in Birmingham…

…we play this game. You stand in a street, maybe a shopping centre is best. There are just two of you, it doesn’t work otherwise. And one person discretely starts following someone. The other person then has to follow behind and try and guess who it is the first person is following. The trick is to do it so casually that you fool them into thinking you’re not following anyone at all…

…I am indirectly responsible for, among other things, the death of adequate resistance, architectural incompetencies that caused the structural decay of a cottage in South Devon, the switch in swallow’s migration patterns, the Cold War, the death and mutilation of thousands of innocent children in Vietnam and Cambodia due to landmine accidents every year, Global Warming, the certain demise of a number of highly suspicious donkeys, lack of humanitarian aid, the spread of HIV, Syphilis and Chlamydia, Timothy McVey, the heartbreak of someone I love, the mounting trepidation one feels when watching a horror film, sunrise but not sunset, the abrupt reconciliation of subject into object, not putting out self-immolators (you wouldn’t piss on me if I was on fire - for fucks sake I can’t go in a urinal if I think someone else is on the room), the decline of the Welfare State, increase in taxes, decrease in taxis and numerous counts of liver damage…

…on the outskirts of London there is no-one…

…so there’s this girl called Idriel or something, maybe Sara, and she is a empty vessel, so fucking representative of nothing that the only way she can express herself is by becoming a fan of something. A fanatic. So she starts up this website and on it lists all the things she is a fan of. Like Kill Bill, Douglas Adams, Dresden Dolls, Luna Lovegood (whoever that is), IKB, American Gods and so on. But she’s not just a fan of these things, she has joined a fan listing online to claim her fanship of this or whatever.Its crazy, like she defines herself by who or what she likes…

…even bare walls look barer now, its not as though they got less full of matter just in one day…